Why?
by Gina Moriarty
Summary: Sequel to Naisa's "Oh No, Not Again", but more serious. Gina disappears and Sherlock strives to discover why. Somehow, he discovers something he didn't expect.
1. Prologue

The only thing that told him she was gone was everything of hers.

All of it had disappeared, leaving his usually semi-tidy room impeccably clean. Sherlock Holmes looked around him, baffled. There had been no indication that she would be leaving, no actions that would tell him the truth, she had been so happy earlier that day, and now she was just… gone.

He stepped forward, trying to smell her perfume on the air, but he couldn't find it. She'd planned this, then. Planned precautions against him finding her.

Something gripped his heart, and it hurt. He wasn't sure what it was, but John would later tell him that he was feeling loss. It was a familiar feeling, but only slightly, as he had only felt it once before – though this time, it was on a much greater scale.

His hand went to his pocket, feeling the brand new box he had only just purchased that day. Went out especially for. A sort of gift for her – only John knew about it. And she had taken the opportunity to disappear.

Gina Moriarty had disappeared from his life, and he wanted her back, and would gleefully kill to make it so.

God, he needed a cigarette.


	2. Months Go By

**Months Go By**

Sherlock was going insane.

Everywhere he looked, he could see her. Everywhere he was, he could smell her perfume. Everywhere he listened, he could hear her laughter.

Even John could see the effects.

"Sherlock," he often found himself saying, "If she wanted you to find her, you would have found her by now."

Each time Sherlock ignored him.

Nobody had a clue where Gina had gone, neither her best friend Naisa nor her uncle knew. Sherlock had nearly destroyed an entire floor of an office block just to find out if the latter knew anything.

"I told you," hissed Moriarty, taking a moment to spit blood from his mouth. "I don't know." Despite the fact that he was seething with hatred for Sherlock, he couldn't help but admire him – not many people would have been able to find the consulting criminal, no matter how much they wanted.

Sherlock had beaten Moriarty until he was sure that he didn't know where Gina had gone. With one last slap, Sherlock left Moriarty tied up, not even bothering to say farewell. Moriarty knew those bruises would last.

"I honestly don't know, Sherlock," repeated Naisa, for what felt like the umpteenth time. She had been invited over to Baker Street by John for a cup of tea. Her blonde hair was as long as ever, though now her blue eyes sparkled with only worry for her friend. "If I knew, I'd tell you."

She watched him pace, and pace, and pace.

When she couldn't take any more of his pacing, she said, "But trust me… if she doesn't want to be found, it's nearly impossible to find her. Think of who her uncle is."

"I found him, didn't I?" Sherlock snapped. He stopped pacing, then looked at Naisa, who seemed hurt by his words. He sighed and sat down. "She just… disappeared. No trace, nothing."

Naisa hesitantly put a hand on his arm. "She'll come back," she said with a small smile, "she always does."

He looked at her hand, then at her face. "Always does?" he asked, confused. It was in that moment that he realised he didn't actually know that much about Gina's life.

She nodded. "When her parents died, nearly three years ago now, Gina just vanished. She timed it very carefully, as it was summer, so nobody missed her in classes. Turns out she'd gone to Wales for a month, just travelling around the country. She spent nearly a week in Cardiff. I think it's how she copes with grief."

"Grief?" Sherlock repeated. "But she's not been grieving about anything."

"Not that you've seen," corrected Naisa. "She's a very good actress."

"But… I would have noticed…"

"What was it you said? 'A disguise is only a reflection of yourself.' She wasn't disguised, but she was pretending to be the happier version of herself, that's why you didn't notice."

Sherlock stared at her.

"Stop staring," pouted Naisa. "Not my fault I can be smart sometimes." She looked around. "Now where are those donuts you promised me?"

Through those months that Sherlock hadn't eaten, slept or worked properly, John worried. Usually on a case, Sherlock could figure things out as evidence was given to him, but nowadays he was distracted by the littlest thing.

There was this one time when he stopped in the middle of a shopping mall to stare at a billboard-sized advertisement: a beautiful red-haired woman smiled cheekily, looking at the bottle she held in her hand. It was for Petrichor, a perfume "for the girl who's tired of waiting".

When John had finally become fed up, he asked why Sherlock was staring. Weakly, he replied, "That's her favourite perfume." The only good thing that John could get from this statement was that he wasn't referring to her in the past tense – he still had hope.

Sherlock began going for random walks around London. John thought that Sherlock just wanted to see if he'd bump into her, but all three of them were clever enough to know why that wasn't going to happen.

Then, four months after her disappearance, Naisa dropped by Baker Street to tell them that she'd just had coffee with Gina.

Sherlock asked her many questions, but it proved to be a waste of time. Naisa had been walking down the street, when suddenly she'd been grabbed to one side. The next thing she knows is that she's in the middle of a coffee shop, not too far from where she'd been grabbed.

Blinking blearily, she looked around her. A man in a suit was standing outside the door and the windows were fuzzy but the exterior was recognisable.

"Sorry Naisa," said Gina, who was sitting opposite her. "I had to bring you here unconscious because I knew you'd go running back to John and Sherlock the moment you saw me."

"Gina?" Naisa stared. "Oh my god, you're alive!" She managed a smile, but didn't get up – she felt weak. "Everyone's been so worried. Does this mean you're coming back to Baker Street?"

The brunette looked into the blonde's eyes. "No."

That was the last they spoke of Baker Street. They finished their coffees, and Gina headed towards the door. Before leaving, she turned to look at Naisa. "Tell Holmes something for me."

"What?" It wasn't curiosity in her tone, it was confusion. Gina had never called Sherlock by his surname before, and the look in her eyes was odd – cold, even.

"Tell him these exact words: I know."

That was the end of Naisa's story. Sherlock looked like he was very confused.

"'I know'?" John repeated, crossing his arms and pouting a little. "That's all she said?"

"Yep," nodded Naisa. She decided not to tell Sherlock about Gina's expression when she spoke about him.

"The question isn't what she said, it's what she knows about," muttered Sherlock, interlacing his fingers.

But for all his thinking and for all his logical ways, Sherlock could not figure out what Gina was talking about.

It was driving him insane.


	3. Five Months

**Five Months**

Sherlock was in his usual position on the sofa – cross-armed, legs stretched and a pout on his face. His brain just couldn't figure out where Gina could have gone. All he wanted was to have her back.

Naisa had stopped by for a cup of tea, so she and John were sitting in the kitchen, silently sipping. She looked over to Sherlock.

"Still nothing?" she asked gently.

Sherlock glared at her.

"Alright, I was only asking," Naisa said, looking a little offended.

"Sorry about him," John said quietly. "He's been like this since… well, you know when."

Naisa nodded. "I know."

The click of a lighter and the _fwoomph_ of a small flame alerted them to the fact that Sherlock was sparking up a cigarette. He noticed their stares.

"What?" he snapped.

John shot Naisa a look, but it was too late. "You know she wouldn't have approved of you smoking again," she murmured.

"…Don't care," huffed Sherlock, taking another drag.

"Yes you do," countered John without thinking. "You wouldn't have paused if you had meant it."

"Shut up."

A few moments of silence passed in which nobody moved.

Sherlock put out the cigarette in a nearby ashtray, went swiftly to his room and slammed the door. Once inside, he sunk onto the bed, putting his head in his hands. A sigh escaped him. It was almost a sob.

-x-

An hour later, a knock sounded on his bedroom door.

"Enter." His voice was monotone. He didn't move from his lying down position on his bed.

Naisa opened the door with one hand, holding a mug in the other. "I thought I'd bring you this," she said. He looked at her, sat up, and took the mug from her – it contained coffee. He nodded in thanks.

She smiled at him. "You'll find her." She began to leave the room, but before she closed the door behind her, she paused and looked at Sherlock. "Remember what she was like, and _think_," she said. "It is the new sexy, after all."

Naisa left.

Moments passed.

Sherlock leapt to his feet, his face the picture of realisation. The coffee fell to the floor, covering his feet, but he barely noticed, even when the mug smashed.

John ran in, concerned, then appeared confused at Sherlock's expression. "Sherlock? Is everything okay?"

Sherlock turned to look at him. A grin appeared on his face. "We need to delve into the past of our good friend and ally, Naisa!"

"What?" John gaped at Sherlock. Somehow, this tiny little thing had distracted him from Gina's disappearance. "Why?"

"Because we can. First, we must find out where she lives, and break in to it." He looked at John's face with a mixture of amusement and exasperation. "Do close your mouth John, you look like a fish."

John closed his mouth.

-x-

The two stood outside a neat little house in outer London.

"Are you sure this is where she lives?" asked John.

Sherlock gave him a look that told him to shut up.

It was a relatively easy place to break into, and they found Naisa's room in a matter of seconds. It was mostly neat, except for the desk and surrounding areas. An avid writer, ideas scribbled on receipts and napkins littered the room and her desk was filled with notebooks and pens and pencils. A laptop lay in the corner neatly.

"What exactly are we looking for?"

"Her earliest stories," replied Sherlock, heading towards the wardrobe.

John lingered near the laptop. "Then why are you looking through her clothes?"

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "Her earliest writing wouldn't have been on computer. She would have been young when she started, everything would have been on paper."

Sighing, John started to look through the boxes under Naisa's bed. It was less than an hour when Sherlock laughed in triumph.

He brought out the box he'd been rifling through, dumped it in the middle of the room, and brought out two different stories. Sherlock stared at the paper, then showed it to John.

John looked. The handwriting was the same, yes, but the names were different. On the later story was the name they were both familiar with – Naisa. On the earlier one, however, was a completely different name. Not one they associated with her, but rather with someone else.

On the top left hand corner of the page, in young-Naisa's scribbly handwriting was the name, _Jessica Adler._


	4. Five and a Half, Six Months

**Five and a Half Months**

The day after they broke into Naisa's home, Sherlock went to St Bart's to have a look at the birth records there.

Staring at the screen, Sherlock slumped in his seat.

"What is it?" asked John, entering the room with a coffee in each hand. He puts one next to Sherlock and sips at his, peering at the screen.

_Birth Certificate_

_Name: Jessica Amy Adler_

_Mother: Irene Adler_

_Father: N/A_

John smiled. "Well, we figured out that she actually is Irene's daughter." He took another look at his friend's face. "You're not happy, why?"

"One mystery solved, another begins," Sherlock muttered, poking at the offending _N/A_ on the screen. "I want to find out her father."

"Well, I doubt she'd be happy if we asked her," said John. "After all, we broke into her home, invaded her personal privacy and uncovered what must obviously be a secret. Why else would she change her name?"

Sherlock shrugged. John sighed – he'd returned to the silent, depressive state that he so favoured since Gina's disappearance. In his mind, pigs would fly before Sherlock would see her again.

* * *

><p><strong>Six Months<strong>

Sherlock's phone went off, making him jump. It wasn't that his phone went off; it was because of the noise it made. Usually, it made a normal _bloop_ noise, but this time it sounded out a fanfare – the one from Final Fantasy 7, the one that indicated that a text from Gina had been received.

Apprehensive, Sherlock picked up the phone.

_1 New Message_

He opened it.

_From: Gina M_

_Cup and Saucer. One hour. Be there._  
><em>GM<em>

He hadn't dared hope.

* * *

><p>He was there early, he knew, sitting at a table for two in the window. He was in the furthest corner from the door – he'd be able to see her when she entered.<p>

Sherlock was on his second coffee when the door swung open and admitted the one person he wished to see.

Her skin was as pale as ever, but she'd dyed her hair purple. She displayed her legs proudly in a short dress, a pair of sunglasses hooked on the neckline. Her brown eyes fixed on him, and he felt something inside him melt.

She walked over to him, focusing on nothing else. Gina sat in the chair opposite.

"Gina…" Sherlock couldn't help it, he'd waited so long to see her again, and now he felt as if he was in a dream. Casually, Gina reached over and pinched his arm. "Ow!" He jerked back, rubbing where she'd hurt him.

Gina smiled a little. "Just so you're sure."

"I've missed you," he admitted, and the smile disappeared from her face. "Where have you been?"

She didn't answer.

Sherlock tried a different approach. "Why now? You make me wait six months and now you choose to turn up out of nowhere?"

Gina still didn't answer.

They sat in silence until she ordered a coffee. Eventually, she spoke. "Sherlock…"

The way she said his name nearly made him shudder. He'd missed it.

For the first time, she looked him in the eye. "There's a reason I left. One that you probably won't understand unless I explain it."

He waited for her to continue.

Gina sighed, looking back to her coffee. "A Miss Irene Adler came to my attention on John's blog. And that you weren't fine with her lack of presence, but that you were hiding it."

Sherlock stared. A sad smile formed on her lips.

"I'm a smart girl, I could read the subtext." She paused, taking a sip from her coffee. "I also did a bit of research, and came upon something I didn't expect to find… evidence that she had a daughter."

Sherlock tried to speak, but Gina's finger was suddenly on his lips, her manicured nail pressing against his philtrum. _Since when did she get manicures?_ he found himself wondering.

"I couldn't live with the idea that you may have fathered a child, even if you didn't know about it. I couldn't live with it, so I left."

Gina stood and made her way around the table, her finger never leaving his lips. She nudged the chair with her foot, moving it enough so that she could slide herself onto Sherlock's lap.

"Don't get me wrong, Sherlock," she said quietly, removing her finger. "I do miss you."

Sherlock opened his mouth, but wasn't sure whether he was going to attempt to tell her who Irene's daughter was, or ask if she still loved him. He didn't get to find out either, as she suddenly covered his lips with hers.

Not one to complain when Gina wanted him, he abandoned thought and left everything to instinct. Their lips locked, he felt her arms wrap around his neck, and he pulled her closer, his arms around her waist.

He felt a tug, which turned into pain, which turned into relief. Pulling away from Gina's lips, his hand flew to the back of his neck.

Gina slid out of his grasp, a few strands of his hair in her hand. "I'm sorry," she said, before running out the door. Sherlock hastily left a five pound note on the table and ran after her, but it was too late.

She had disappeared once more, without a trace.


	5. Catalyst

**Catalyst**

Six months, and she had caved. It annoyed her, but she kept telling herself she had a reason. She needed his DNA, just to make sure.

She returned to Bart's, thanks to Molly Hooper's ident card, which she had borrowed (with permission, for once). Molly, though a bad liar, was good at keeping secrets. She wouldn't tell anyone if Gina went in to use the DNA analysis equipment.

She'd collected a variety of hair strands out of habit, and now Sherlock's was to be added to the collection. Once Gina had been out of his sight, she paused to place it in a small tube labelled Sherlock. Irene's DNA had been oddly easy to find, despite Sherlock's silence about her.

A single strand of hair had been found on Sherlock's coat, and the DNA matched the records that Molly found on the hospital's database.

Gina sat in front of the analysing device now, the strands of hair from Sherlock and Irene lined up carefully. She was waiting for it to find any matches on the database.

The machine made a _ding_ sound, finding a match. Her heart sank.

Well, it sank until she looked at the screen.

Irene's DNA half-matched with one of the ones on the database, but Sherlock's didn't match with it. Confused, she looked at the database profile – obviously it was Irene's daughter, but the name didn't ring a bell – Jessica Adler.

Clicking on the name brought up a picture, and she gasped.

Her best friend, Naisa, smiled out at her.

Pigs could have flown in front of her face and she still wouldn't have noticed; she was that shocked.

Wanting to distract herself from it for a moment so that she could get used to the idea, Gina added several other strands of hair to the analysing machine, including John's and Molly's.

She happened to get another shock when it finished.

The machine had found a match within the different strands she'd placed in. She stared once more at the screen, astounded.

Part of Naisa's DNA matched hers.

Knowing that her mother had been an only child, they had to be related through their father. But they were both dead, and only a small amount matched.

_I think it's time to pay a visit to Uncle Jim_.

* * *

><p>Moriarty hobbled to his front door, which he had heard close only a moment ago. He didn't seem surprised that his niece was standing there. Then again, he rarely showed any emotion on his face.<p>

"Nice hair," was all he said.

"Nice limp," Gina retorted.

"Thank you," replied Moriarty. "It was a gift from your boyfriend… or should I say ex-boyfriend?"

She glared at him. "I'm not here to talk about Sherlock. I'm here to talk about you."

This time, surprise showed on his face, but only for a moment. "Well, can we do it where it's comfortable? My leg, you see…" He trailed off as she stalked past him and into the living room. He hobbled after her.

She was already seated when he got there.

"I'm cutting straight to the chase, James," said Gina.

"Well, it must be serious," mused Moriarty. "You're using my full name."

Gina gave him a glare. He mimed zipping his lips shut. "I need you to tell me your experiences with one Irene Adler."

He raised his eyebrows and shook his head, pointing to his mouth. Gina rolled her eyes. He 'unzipped' it.

"I hired her a while ago."

"Not just for the plane of the dead, I assume."

Again, surprise showed on his face. "And you would know that, how?"

Gina paused, thinking. "Jessica Adler."

That really made his face change. His eyes widened, and his jaw clenched.

"How do you know that name?" he demanded, his voice a deadly whisper.

"So she _is_ your daughter then? Good to have that cleared up." Gina stood up and crossed the room. "Just to make sure, though…"

She ripped out some of his hair. "Um… ouch!"

"Get well soon, Uncle Jim," she said sweetly, before leaving the room.

He would have gone after her, but she'd be gone by the time he'd reach the hall. Damn leg.

* * *

><p>Exhilarated, Gina returned to St Bart's. Sitting in front of the DNA machine again, she lined up the DNA of Naisa, Irene and Uncle Jim, and let the machine work.<p>

Gina went to get a coffee.

The machine _ding_ed when she arrived.

It confirmed her suspicions. Her heart became heavy with guilt and regret.

She was wrong. Sherlock had never fathered a child.

Naisa, AKA Jessica Adler, was the daughter of Irene Adler and James Moriarty.

Gina needed to get to Baker Street.


	6. Baker Street

**Baker Street**

Gina stood in the doorway to the Holmes-Watson flat, staring at the scene before her. Every item imaginable littered the floor, and John was sitting on one of the kitchen chairs, duct tape keeping him there and keeping him silent.

She ran over to John and ripped the tape off his mouth.

"Gina!" He looked stunned to see her. Or maybe that was his concussion. He was covered in bruises, and his nose was bleeding.

"Where's Sherlock?" she asked urgently, hacking away at the rest of the duct tape with her pen knife.

"Dunno. There's a note, though," he replied, looking towards the fireplace.

Once he was free, she grabbed the note and read it. Her eyebrows raised. "Really, Jim? A library?"

"Better than a cheese factory," muttered John, attempting to get the circulation in his legs back.

"True…" agreed Gina, re-reading the note. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw John start to stand up. She immediately went over to him and pushed him back down on the chair. "Let me."

Gina crouched down and began to massage his calves. She left the thighs alone for two reasons – one being that it would be rather weird, and the other being that they hadn't been bound.

"Thanks," said John when she finished and let him stand up. He went to the sofa. "I can look after myself."

Gina looked sceptical. "You have concussion."

"I know that," he said.

"You need someone here, just in case."

"No I don't," John said hurriedly, knowing that the only other doctors she knew were Molly (who really doesn't know anything about dealing with live patients) and Sarah.

"Yes you do. I know you and Sarah ended badly, but you need someone with the proper knowledge to look after you." She had already picked up the phone. "Do I have to tie you down?"

John sighed, and let her ring Sarah.

Gina knew Sarah wouldn't really want to, but she reluctantly agreed. She and Gina had gotten along well, and Gina knew how to persuade people without threatening them. She only saved threats for special occasions.

She rang Naisa, too. It wouldn't be fair to her if Gina didn't reveal her paternal heritage soon. Plus the look on their faces would be priceless.

Sarah arrived not long after Gina hung up the phone on Naisa. Naisa arrived quite quickly after that.

"Thanks again, Sarah," said Gina with a smile. "You're probably the only person I trust with him at the moment."

"I'm fine!" insisted John from the sofa.

"That's just the concussion talking," Gina sang. "I'll see you both later," she said normally to Sarah.

"You too," replied the doctor.

Naisa was waiting for Gina downstairs.

"Ready to go all bad-assery?" asked Naisa excitedly.

"Hell yes," grinned Gina.


	7. The Library

**The Library**

Gina and Naisa didn't bother being quiet. Chances were Moriarty already knew they were there.

"Good choice," said Naisa approvingly, looking around at all the books. "Ooh, _Harry Potter_!"

"Naisa, not the time," snapped Gina.

"Sorry."

The library was dark, closed for refurbishment. Apparently, Moriarty felt it a good hiding place for Sherlock.

They searched the Fiction and Science Fiction sections, and made their way to the Children section, where Sherlock looked utterly ridiculous sitting on a tiny red chair made for five-year-olds.

"Sherlock!" blurted Gina, running towards him. She ripped the tape off his mouth and kissed him like her life depended on it. She looked him in the eye. "I shouldn't have doubted you, forgive me?"

Sherlock smiled. "Always."

Gina returned the expression, grabbed her penknife, and started sawing through the tape that tied him to the chair.

"Now, now," said a chilling and familiar voice. "We don't want this to be over quite yet."

Gina paused in her sawing. "There's no point in hiding, Uncle. We know it's you."

"I didn't," huffed Naisa. "Ooh, _The Hungry Caterpillar_! I loved that book!"

"Naisa!" hissed Gina.

"Sorry."

Moriarty appeared at the only exit from the Children section. Red dots appeared on Sherlock and Naisa's chests.

"I knew this would catch your attention," said Moriarty, inspecting his fingernails.

"Why? Because I was delving into our family tree? Oddly enough, I know something you don't." Gina stood in front of Sherlock, the red dots relocating to her chest. "You could never resist a secret."

Moriarty glared at her.

A minute passed in complete silence. Naisa fidgeted uncomfortably.

"Fine." Moriarty finally spoke. "Tell me a secret."

"I know who your daughter is."

Sherlock and Naisa stared at her. Moriarty's nostrils flared.

"I also know that she doesn't go by her birth name anymore," Gina continued. "Would you like to know the name she goes by now?"

"Yes!" Three voices echoed in the library.

Gina smirked. "Her name is Naisa."

"What?" Again, three voices echoed. Everyone was shocked, and Sherlock and Moriarty were staring at her.

"Jessica Adler disappeared at the age of thirteen, didn't she?" Gina directed her question at Naisa, who nodded.

"I had a habit of getting in too deep with the wrong people," she admitted. "I left those I knew and became Naisa… Hang on. Does that mean we're related?"

Gina couldn't help but grin. "Yep."

Naisa squealed. "That's so cool!"

Moriarty sighed, his eyes rolling. "So my daughter is an aspiring author obsessed with cheese? Great."

"Hey, you have to support me now, _Dad_!" chided Naisa. "Ooh! I've never been able to say that before!" She smiled happily.

"So, how did this happen?" asked Sherlock. Gina giggled, and he rolled his eyes. "I don't mean like _that_. I know how children are conceived."

Moriarty stiffened, knowing that Gina wouldn't let him walk away without an answer. He trained her too well. "Irene Adler got in my way too many times, so I tracked her down. She agreed to work for me if I let her live. I denied – I have enough people to carry out my will. But then she offered me her services. I must admit, she was quite persuasive… in the end, I agreed."

"That explains a lot," murmured Sherlock.

Moriarty looked murderous, angry that someone had found his secret. The red dots hovered on his captives' chests.

"Uncle," said Gina softly. "Let us go. Isn't there any form of familial love for me? Any paternal love for Naisa?" Naisa looked suitably pleading for this moment.

Moriarty simply turned and walked away.

Everyone held their breaths.

"If you need a publisher," came Moriarty's voice, "let me know." The red dots vanished.

Breathing a sigh of relief, Gina finished cutting Sherlock loose. He hugged her tightly. "You're getting a big reward tonight," he whispered in her ear, making her blush. Naisa was too busy stealing books to notice.

* * *

><p>The return to Baker Street was a big surprise for everyone involved.<p>

"John… why are you and Sarah naked?" asked Gina innocently.

"YOU SHOULD LEARN TO KNOCK!"

"You should put some clothes on," stated Sherlock, nudging Gina towards their room

Soon enough, Sherlock and Gina were doing the very thing that John and Sarah had already finished.


	8. Epilogue

**Epilogue**

Gina waited patiently on the bench in the park near Baker Street. It was dusk, and the setting sun cast wondrous pinks across the sky. She wondered where Sherlock was. He'd told her to wait on the bench while he went and did some other thing that he didn't really explain.

He'd been gone almost half an hour. He drove her insane, sometimes.

I guess that was part of why she loved him.

She saw a silhouette on the other side of the park, and recognised it immediately – no one else wore that coat.

Sherlock came into clear view, one hand in his pocket.

He kneeled in front of her quietly.

_FWOOM._

Letters appeared in the darkening sky. She looked up to read them.

Gina's mouth opened in surprise, and she looked back at Sherlock. In his hand, he held a box, and in the box, there was a ring. It shined in the sunset, orange glow reflected from the single diamond on the silver ring.

The smile on her face already answered the question in the sky, but he had to say it aloud. "Will you marry me?" he asked.

Her answer was quiet in disbelief but firm. "Yes."


End file.
